


Last First Kiss

by mirawonderfulstar



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Memory Alteration, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar
Summary: They've done this so many times and somehow it's still a surprise to him when she reaches out.Set around 2x05 "The Trolley Problem".





	Last First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I hate that I love this ship but honestly: how perfect is it that Eleanor loves Chidi because he inspires her to be better and Michael loves Eleanor for exactly the same reason? Mmm delicious drama.

“—which is what I just don’t understand about you humans and your television, I mean, you pay people to act out characters, that’s their job—“

Eleanor was listening only in the most abstract sense, which wasn’t unusual for her. Nor was it unusual that the reason she wasn’t listening was because as far as she was concerned, the words coming out of Michael’s mouth were complete nonsense verging on incomprehensible rambling. What was unusual was the feeling it evoked, something fond and tender. It was a little gross, frankly. Eleanor was decidedly not the warm fuzzy type, but Team Cockroach, as Michael had unflatteringly dubbed them, made her go all soft, and none of them moreso than Michael himself.

He was just so _mundane_ for what he was— an evil, ancient entity wrapped up in a surprisingly hot dad bod, who nonetheless managed to come off sometimes as hopelessly naive and touchingly sincere.

“—and I just wonder about you all sometimes, you know?” Michael finished, looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, absolutely.” Eleanor said with a nod, her brain trying desperately to grasp onto any of what Michael might have just said. “It still beats the ending of Lost though, am I right?” She chuckled and patted Michael on the shoulder.

“You’ve never seen Lost, Eleanor.” Michael responded, oddly gentle. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?”

Eleanor deflated, blowing a lot of air past her lips and looking around the room before shaking her head. “I wasn’t, you’re right.”

“I can’t believe you used to pretend you’d seen Lost just so you could have something to be annoyed with people about while standing in line for things, what a weird detail to come across in your file.” Michael said with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Eleanor crossed her arms, a grin spreading across her face. “Hey, a lot of people were very into that show. It was a pretty safe bet for a couple of years that if you didn’t want to talk to someone, but they wanted to talk to you, you could get ‘em on a good ole ‘Yelling About Lost’ tangent so you only had to smile and nod until it was your turn to go through the checkout.” Michael’s smile had been gradually widening throughout this speech and when Eleanor finished he began to giggle, shaking his head. It was unfairly cute and also, weirdly infectious, and Eleanor found herself giggling right back.

“You know who’s ridiculous? You are. What kind of demon spends his only time free from ethics lessons and subterfuge torture watching old sitcoms?” Eleanor said, moving unconsciously closer to him on the uncomfortable Icelandic couch in her living room. “You’re just...”

Michael was still looking at her fondly, with that big silly grin on his face and his eyes all crinkly and soft behind his glasses, and Eleanor’s hand drifted from his shoulder up to the back of his neck, playing with the hair there, and before she really thought about what she was doing, she was leaning up and into his personal space and kissing him.

The way Michael jumped when she pressed her mouth to his was oddly thrilling, but nowhere near as thrilling as his hands fluttering by her waist, unsure if he should touch her or not. Eleanor had always had a thing for older guys and virgins but never had she ever expected to meet somebody who combined these two traits in a way that wasn't pathetic or creepy. Michael was so... he was certainly something, Eleanor thought as she bit his bottom lip and he moaned. 

Then his hands did settle on her waist, and Eleanor felt a jolt run through her before she realized he was pushing her away. "Eleanor," he murmured, his tone apologetic and a little bit concerned, "this isn't what you want." 

"How do you know? Did it say that in my file, too? 'Lies about having seen Lost, is not attracted to demons'?" Eleanor said, a little more harshly than she'd intended, trying to catch her breath. 

"Don't do that." Michael said softly, reaching up and brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear and peering seriously into her face. 

"Don't do what?" She snapped, feeling her eyes start to water under his gaze, and oh great, she was going to cry, and she wanted to smack him just so he'd stop looking at her like that. 

"Don't do that thing where you get angry and push people away because you think they're going to hurt you." Michael said. "And no, I didn't get that from your file. I know you, Eleanor, and trust me, this isn't what you want." He was still cupping her face, stroking his thumb along her cheek. She could feel his breath against her lips.  

"It's what _you_ want though, isn't it?" Eleanor whispered. 

Michael shook his head and let her go, turning away with a sigh. "I want you to get into the real Good Place, and I'm not going to get you there." He turned back to her with a sad little smile. "You belong with Chidi." 

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "You made up that soulmate stuff, dude, don't try and pull that with me." 

"Chidi makes you want to be a better person. I make you want to be reckless and selfish." Michael said. "You know how this goes, Eleanor." 

Eleanor swallowed heavily, her hands clenched into fists on her knees. "Have we... did this happen before?" Eleanor's voice rose. "Have we had this conversation before?" 

Michael nodded, looking at her with such a tender expression that Eleanor's eyes filled with tears again. "Forty eight times. And we could have it forty eight times more, and I wouldn't change the outcome. You need Chidi, Eleanor. The two of you always find each other, even when I try to stop it." His expression hardened. "I wondered for a while, after you all came up with that little seduction ploy, whether I could keep you from discovering the truth if I told you _I_ was your soulmate." He laughed. "It never worked. And then Vicky started accusing me of _feeling things_ for you, and that was a mess to sort out, you wouldn't believe—" 

"Michael." Eleanor cut him off with a glare. "Do you love me?" 

"I won't answer that, it doesn't matter." Michael shook his head. "You love Chidi, and you should love Chidi. You make each other better." 

"Yeah, but if I'm understanding correctly, _I_ make _you_ better, dude. Shouldn't that count for something?" 

"No." Michael said, firmly. "That's not how this works. That's not how this happens. Now, Eleanor, are you going to let this drop or am I going to have to erase your memory of the last half hour?" 

Eleanor stood up. Her tears, gathering in her eyes and on her lashes for the last few minutes, finally began to overflow. "Oh, fork you, Michael. You don't get to make decisions for me. If you want to be on team human, you need to get it through your head that we all—" 

 

Eleanor blinked. Why was her face wet? She touched her cheek. Had she been crying? What the fork for? And why was she clutching one of the horrible scratchy pillows from the couch to her chest like she'd just finished blubbering over Titanic? And where the fork were the others? Didn't they have class today? 

Eleanor checked the clock. Ah. It was break time. She must have fallen asleep, although that didn't explain the tears. Maybe a nightmare? Eleanor didn't remember a nightmare but she often didn't. She'd had weird dreams that she forgot upon waking on and off her whole life, why shouldn't she have them after death as well? 

 

Several blocks away, Michael pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips, a feeling he didn't have the name for gnawing in his stomach. It was for the best, he thought, schooling his face into a neutral expression as he headed back to his office. 


End file.
